


wie wird man seinen schatten los?

by Marinia



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Human, Bad end, Composer Logic | Logan Sanders, Gen, Historical Inaccuracy, Kid Morality | Patton Sanders, M/M, Main Character Death, Mild Gore, Mind Manipulation, No Period-Typical Homophobia, kind of, parental analogical, sad end, shadow creature
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-08
Updated: 2019-05-08
Packaged: 2020-02-28 13:57:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,479
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18757819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marinia/pseuds/Marinia
Summary: Logan Sanders is a musical prodigy, rising to dizzying heights with the help of his Shadow. He is made of music, and he doesn't want to change that.And even if he did, how do you get rid of your Shadow? (you don't)





	wie wird man seinen schatten los?

Logan is taught how to compose, how to play both the piano and the violin, from childhood on. His father recognizes his innate talent with instruments and harmony; the boy progresses faster than he'd would've ever dreamed of. 

He parades his young prodigy around at courts, shows him off to all the nobles who'll hear them. Logan’s father is desperately hoping to get a patron or someone to sponsor them; composers are a dime a dozen!

But as they collect tokens, memorabilia and patronising smiles, no one is willing to take Logan under their wing. The child may be a wonder, but his father is neither a noble nor an aristocrat. Not one whose talents needed to be supported. 

It's at this time his Shadow first approaches him.

His Shadow is a bit weird. Its eyes are dark and glimmering, its fingers always fidgeting, always playing keys on tabletops if it’s not bent over music paper. It never once made a mistake when it scribbled notes onto it with ink and a quill, never even letting a splatter of it fall onto the precious notes. Pressing the written pages close to its chest, only letting Logan near them if he wanted to correct a detail, lending him its ink. 

Logan is afraid its pot will be empty any day now, it writes so often, but the pot seems almost self-replenishing. And Logan can hear the music his Shadow composes, is kept awake at night, thoughts running along in tune with the harmonies, notes rearranging themselves to his fancy, until they’re perfect, until- 

He hears his Shadow's creations in completion as they're written down. It’s like his creations-  _ is _ his creations, only slightly better, slightly more inspired, fine tuned by his friend, and he loves it! Loves them. Loves his Shadow. 

Everything his shadow touches- It's all so much livelier than he could manage, is his ghost and soul in notes!

Logan grows up, and his shadow doesn't leave him. 

Instead, its eyes grow greedy and dark as logan stays at the court of the man who employs his father. Staying where it's safe instead of going out into the world that intrigues him so much. Staying away from people who could best him, who could teach him, who could be left behind in the dust as he progressed and improved. Forever staying in his damned small town _. _

Logan hates it, and his Shadow does even more. 

~

When a duke visits them, visits Logan's employer, searching a composer for his home in Vienna, a great hub of art and of people, his Shadow looks at the man with something like hunger. 

His Shadow's fingers fly over the paper as he writes, and Logan can hear it, works with it, correcting notes, changing accidentals, but neither of them are satisfied, no matter what changes they make. 

When his Shadow turns to him, it seems almost bashful.

"I know how to make it good enough," it says, speaking for the first time. Its voice is soft like the sound of violins, melodious and sweet, lulling Logan into a feeling of comfort, almost like a lullaby. He wants to be be distrustful, but his Shadow has only ever been good to him, has only ever helped him, been his friends when the other kids either teased or ignored him.

"It needs  _ Herzblut- _ your blood, infused with your passion and your love for music, and your knowledge of it.” The Shadow spots the apprehension growing in Logan's eyes. “Just a little bit, don't worry," it smiles, reassuring, its teeth white as porcelain.

Logan wants to be distrustful, he really does, but his Shadow has only ever been good to him. And it seems so sweet, still looking like Logan did as a child, when he first met it-

He nods.

He never noticed how sharp his Shadow's quill is. 

He realizes why as his Shadow rams it into his skin.

It didn't care for his crying as it composed. Dipping it into the wound from time to time, the hand not writing clawed into Logan’s arm, keeping him still. 

Not that it needs to. 

Even as Logan cries, as he hurts, he can hear the music being made. Can hear how lovely it sounds, can hear how flawless it is, knows it'll be the thing to get him out of here. He gets lost in the music. 

He’s dazed as he wraps fabric around his wound, humming the melody under his breath, smiling as if he was in love. 

His Shadow is collecting the leftover  _ Herzblut _ in his pot, hunger still not quenched. 

~

Logan is right, it gets him to Vienna. He and his father have a great fight about it, words and vases being thrown, but in the end he leaves, leaves everything behind, except for his Shadow. His shadow who'd gotten him out, who is his friend, who he can trust, who has only ever been good to him.

He doesn't care to notice the greed in its eyes growing, until it’s all that remains. He doesn’t care to notice how often its eyes were drawn to his skin, or, even worse, to his heart, hunger warring with greed warring with affection. 

In Vienna, Logan’s music is beloved and he has more friends than he'd ever dreamt of. In Vienna, he is happier than ever before. In Vienna, his shadow draws on his  _ Herzblut _ more and more, striving for mastery in every piece. And how can he care, if his music is so heavenly, and his heart is so at ease, his thoughts so far away? He will go down into history! He will make his name have meaning! 

He doesn’t notice how his ambitions grow, how they shift, how he grows pale, how the cheeks of his shadow become rosier while his own cave in. 

~

The first breath of reality comes when Logan's boyfriend turns away from him one morning, only perking up when Logan offers to play him something.

"You composed it?"    
"Yes- of course I did"    
"Then let's hear it, you know i love seeing you play!"

That… stings. 

Logan isn’t sure why, because- music is all he is, of course his partners would see it the same way! Why is he being so silly? It's illogical.

He goes back to composing then, shaking his head at his own antics. He tries to forget it, playing and playing instead, until his fingers are sore and his eyes are burning, but the words still echoing. 

He's feeling wonderful, of course he is- his music is popular and favoured among the rich and influential, he is surrounded by more people-  _ friends _ than ever, he... keeps hearing the same things.

"I love seeing you play."   
"You're so beautiful when you compose."   
"You’re so gorgeous up in those concert halls."   
_ "I love your music."  _   
It's always that, always his music, never anything else but his  _ music _ . But that’s who he is, isn’t it? His essence, his livelihood- if he didn’t know better he’d imagine he bled notes. 

He’s allowing his Shadow to draw more blood, seeing the red exit his veins, attempting to keep the love of those surrounding them. His Shadow almost looks like it pities him. If it does, it's too hungry to resist.  

It's always been hungry, so hungry, for recognition, for fame, for fortune, had been so eaten up with greed it'd twisted up its soul until it was nothing but darkness, but Shadow. 

It almost regretted having found Logan, but his music, his talent, was too sweet to resist. 

~

One night, Logan almost doesn't wake up. And when he does, he doesn’t feel  delirious, like he should. He feels sore, and worn out and tired, like he's been through hell and is only now waking up. 

The realization hits him like a brick. This... this isn’t helping. This isn’t good for him- his Shadow isn’t good for him! Isn’t good  _ to _ him.

But how do you  get rid of your Shadow?

How could he escape a part of himself?

A confidant? 

A friend?

~

Logan throws away all compositions still in progress, all collections already finished, turns away from his patrons, ignores his Shadow's violin voice wailing and weeping, begging him to stop, to think about this, they were so  _ close! _

Logan is so close to giving in. So close to hugging the screaming child that still holds a quill with traces of his blood on it. So close to turning back. 

But he doesn’t, let’s the distance between himself and his dreams grow into what feels like infinity. 

His Shadow keeps on watching him as he, for the very first time, tries to find friends and lovers who care about anything but his music. Its eyes are never wet, but always rimmed with red. Whenever Logan makes the mistake to look at it it'd beg and scream, scream at Logan to go back, to compose, beg Logam to do what he's supposed to.

~

Logan wakes up sweating almost every night, shivering and stumbling, halfway to the next desk, dreams of melodies so sweet stealing him every peace of mind. The quill shakes in his hand, and he eventually hides he music paper and his quills away, locking them up in the hope to never see them again. 

~

He finds a man; a man who loves him, who holds him through those nights, who helps him breathe, who lets him hide from his Shadow and his thoughts, because he knows what it feels like to wake up screaming every other night, because he loves Logan so much that it dizzies him. 

Logan and Virgil are getting ready to move in together, to spend their entire lives together.    
Logan is learning how to do something other than music.    
Logan feels like he might be free. 

He gets a job at a bank, nothing great but enough to pay the bills. The numbers manage to distract him from the melodies in his head. His shadow is still there, but it seems to have cried itself out. Its sad eyes never leave him, but Logan learns to sleep again, in Virgil’s arms. 

He makes up with his father, returning to his hometown for a month in the spring, and before he knows it, it's been years since he even thought of music. 

He and Virgil are happy, even considering adopting a child or two. 

~

Logan gets a promotion, and they're able to move into a house now, big enough for a family, big enough for them to fulfill their dreams of one. They start visiting an orphanage, looking for a child or two to adopt. 

They meet a little boy with too-big glasses, too many freckles and an almost too-bright smile. They meet their sunshine and know they want to care for him, offer him all the love they have. They snuggle at night, whispering about all they could do when little Patton would finally be with them.

They decorate a room for him, paint it his favourite colour and fill it with toys and plushies. They ask him to come home with them and all shed tears as Patton jumps into Virgil’s arms. Logan gets some time off so they can all be together while Patton settles in, before their son- and he’s  _ their son! _ Isn't that a marvelous thought?- would have to start school.

~

The day they finally get to take Patton home, the couple kisses before Virgil steps into the carriage, to get their  _ son _ , to get  _ Patton _ . 

Virgil would return in three days time, the journey back being interrupted by a rest in a hotel for Patton’s sake. Meanwhile, Logan would be home, making sure everything is perfect, trying not to shatter with nerves, going to his last day of work, three months of blissful rest awaiting him. 

Everything is perfectly planned out. They plan for Logan to cook Patton’s favourite dish for his return, have already bought all the ingredients and asked one of the guardians at the orphanage for their recipe so it’d be just perfect. 

Both Logan and Virgil are giddy and excited as the sun slowly rises, both of them fidgeting and tapping their feet; Logan humming. 

He closes the door, excited and happy, a skip in his step, when the thought enters his mind, a melody under his breath- why not write Patty a little song, just a lullaby in case he has trouble sleeping in a new house? Nothing complicated, of course, just a sweet little melody, it- it couldn't hurt, right? 

He sees his Shadow stir in his peripheral, but looks away. To the desk with a small stack of music paper, behind an old lock he’d hoped to never open.  

But his hopes have changed; it’s for Patton this time. It's for his son. It’s  _ different _ this time. 

The quill feels strange in his hand. He can’t help smiling, noticing how much he'd missed it’s weight, the notes in his mind being heard for the first time in years. 

He titles the paper:  _ For Patton _ , and starts writing. 

But the notes won't quite cooperate with him. He tries to write something else. To let them combine in a better pattern while his mind is distracted. 

His Shadow comes closer, until it stands behind his chair. 

Seven pages of music and a lot of ripped out hair. Nothing is  _ good enough _ . 

His Shadow taps on his leg. 

"I could help you," it whispers, hopeful and melodious, just like before. 

Logan wants to resist, but- Patton deserves only the best, doesn't he? Besides, it's just one song, it can't hurt, he'll stop right after! 

He nods, lifting his Shadow onto his lap. A familiar weight, giving it a better view of his failures. Giving it a better view of what it'd improve, perfect. "Help me, then."

His Shadow grins up at him, open and honest, looking so gleeful Logan wonders for a moment why he ever stopped composing with it. It hugs him, for one short moment- "I knew you'd come around!"- before it bends over the paper, strikes out and corrects, writes and writes, a melody so sweet and lovely, so peaceful and heavenly. Little Patton would love it. 

Logan… he is so glad, he can't help it- when his Shadow is finished, and looking up at him with gleaming, glowing, eyes, asking what else he wants to compose, he grins, grey hairs and wrinkles forgotten, feeling young  and bold as a child again. 

He writes until deep into the night. Writes and writes, his back should be aching with how he bends over the music paper, writes and writes, his eyes should burn under the strain of relying on nothing but a candle's light, writes and writes, his stomach should be growling after being ignored for hours. But he soldiers on, dazed by his creations. 

When the clock strikes three, and he’s still working on the crescendo of his opera- his Shadow tugs on his sleeve, looking hungry again. 

"I could help," it offers, its quill gleaming in the candle light. 

Logan almost disagrees, on instinct, but looking at the notes.... he doubts he'll figure this out soon, even as he almost tastes the correct collection of notes, almost  _ feels it _ . It aches, how close perfection is, how easily it can be achieved. "Just... as much as is necessary. No more.”   
His Shadow nods. 

Logan flinches as the quill is rammed into his skin again. It’s more painful than he remembered, but then the notes start to flow, the music overwhelming the pain, and he remembers why he  _ bled _ so often, before. Reality starts to blur. 

~

The opera is finished when the clock strikes nine, the morning sun not even interrupting Logan's writing, his arms weak and shaky, but his shadow guides his hands. His vision is starting to grow hazy, but his shadow smiles at him, voice as sweet as violins, reassuring him- he'll make sure everything is written down correctly. 

Logan smiles, dazed and delirious, but relieved. He lets himself slump over in his chair, exhausted and hungry, his throat parched and his back killing him. He sleeps. 

His Shadow lets him, writing down the last notes, ordering all the papers in the right order, making sure they're listed and there's no mistake. Greed makes its eyes turn black, it’s porcelain teeth sharpen. They're sharp enough to pierce skin now. Not that it would. Its quill is so much more  elegant, so much more  _ precise _ . 

~

Logan is tapped awake; the Shadow unable to stop itself- the hunger is so great, and especially now, when the end is so close!

"I have another idea! A requiem!”

Its cheeks are rosy, Logan is stiff and tired. His bones are hurting and his sleeves are dirtied with red. He knows this is bad, wants to resist, but... he's so tired, and his shadows voice is so enticing. "And after we'll stop?"

"I promise!"

Logan nods, weak smile on his lips, as he caresses his shadow's face. It'd been with him for so long... "Okay. Let's do it then" Music has always been  _ him _ , after all. 

His shadow pierces his skin without even asking, and Logan doesn't even blink. He leans back, hearing the music starting to piece itself together. Closing his eyes, focusing on nothing but the perfect harmonies  being created, correcting and nudging sometimes, but mostly just  _ listening _ . 

His shadow writes and writes, not easily, often taking multiple minutes to be sure it finds the right tone, but consistently. It's never mistaken in its choices, and Logan feels at ease, as the piece takes form. 

He knows how it'll sound, knows it'll be amazing, knows it'll be his magnum opus. 

But then the music stops- he blinks. Is suddenly panicked, is looking at his shadow-

It’s bashful again, twirling the quill in its hands. "It's almost finished," it says, excited. Its cheeks are red with it. It looks alive, like a real boy. "I just need a bit more"

"What's the problem, then? Take it!" Logan shouts, gesturing with his arms, or trying to, it's so  _ heavy _ . He glares at the wound but- it doesn't bleed. His skin is paper thin, but he can't see the blood that should be pulsing underneath it.

_ Oh. _

"I can finish it!” His Shadow says, still excited. “But...this requiem, it'll be yours, Logan" 

But his Shadow had already bled him dry, how could he- 

_ Oh _ . 

He grasps at his heart, still beating faintly, so faintly, looks at the friend who's been with him all his life. His friend whom he trusts, who's almost always been good to him.

Virgil and Patton would come home soon.... but he was so  _ close. _

"I- I...," he looks at the music paper, filled with dark red ink. He was so  _ close _ . He could practically hear it already.  _ He was so close _ . "Take... take what you need to." 

His Shadow looks almost sad, but it kisses Logan on the cheek. It's a foreign gesture, warm against Logan's cold skin. 

Then it thrusts its quill into his heart. 

Logan gasps, feeling the air leave his lungs, the music drowning out everything else-

The Shadow bends over the paper, writes and writes, until Logan's heart stops beating, writes and writes, until it’s done, writes and writes, until Logan's eyes turn glassy, writes and writes, until he is still, writes and writes, until it is finished at last. 

Roman has finished the requiem when Logan's  _ Herzblut  _ runs empty on his quill. His hunger is sated, his greed satisfied, and he smiles, for a moment, seeing the result of his work. Logan will go down in history now. He'll be remembered for centuries to come.    
His smile slips when he sees him, white and still. 

His own form is already turning airy again, losing its strength.

Still, he orders the papers again, knowing how much Logan likes-  _ liked _ order, and  takes all the blood his quill hasn't managed to catch, filling his inkpot up again, leaving Logan white and clean, looking almost as if he was sleeping.

He wants to put him in his bed, but his grip and reality is already growing strenuous. 

"I'm sorry,  _ mein Freund _ . You were my companion as much as i was yours, I promise you. I'm sorry I didn't wait longer"

And with that, it left again, a formless Shadow again. 

~

Virgil will return with Patton later, excited and happy, ready to show their child his room, to share their first meal at home, Logan by his side- 

He never would, of course. 

They would never celebrate another anniversary together again, let alone any of Patty's birthdays. They would never share a meal at home together, or tuck their son into bed, Logan would never read him a bedtime story. 

Instead, Virgil would cradle Patton close, when they came home, and he'd see his Papa dead. 

**Author's Note:**

> This is an edited Discord fic inspired by the song "Wie wird man seinen Schatten los" from "Mozart- Das Musical", which you can see [here](https://youtu.be/OoDUZvpjTyo), I definetely recommend it! 
> 
> Please leave kudos/reviews if you're liked this, i'll be sure to reply, and have a lovely day either way <3


End file.
